doctorwhofanonfandomcom-20200216-history
Doctor Who Forgotten Suns Chapter Five
Mech-Tec Enteberol and Tec-Op Choltz exchanged looks of disbelieving horror, as they were informed that they had been chosen to accompany the first team into the Ship of the Ancients. This was not what they had been hatched for! True, as Sub-Commander Talamane pointed out, the two of them did have more ‘hands-on’ experience of the Ship than any of the other Tec crewmembers - but that had been on the outside of the cursed derelict! Nice and safe, inside the magna-clamped lower deck of their own works vessel, it had been easy to forget exactly what they were drilling into. Just another day of hard labor. And it had been hard work - not to mention ever-so-slightly terrifying - before the work teams had managed to adjust to their actual location. Enteberol and Choltz had been among the first to go down, into the workspace created by the contact craft’s magna-clamps. It had actually been Choltz’ bright idea to vent the atmosphere from that deck, since they had to wear vac-suits anyway. She had been under the impression that this would make lugging some of the heavier drilling equipment about somewhat easier. Unfortunately, this meant that everyone had to magnetize their suit-boots, making just walking a task. Not to mention the fact that, although the tools now seemed to weigh nothing, the operators still had to strain against their inertia. Choltz was deeply unpopular for several decads after that! Admittedly, Enteberol’s own task hadn’t been too adversely affected, as he was using the precision drilling tools. He and Choltz had been tasked with creating openings in the Ship’s hull, in order to feed through various sensor devices, but this did entail its own problems - naturally! Without any weight behind the drill (although this would have been the case even in full grav) Enteberol had to use brute strength to make any progress. Even taking turns with Choltz, who was in charge of vacuuming the metal shavings away from the drill-head, it was slow and tiresome work. Still, at least they weren’t with the heavy riggers, whose job it was to create an actual entrance into the derelict. Disregarding the discomfort and the tension, their own task was as easy as catching small furry mammals by comparison. Naturally, they made faster progress with their smaller targets, and it was then almost a matter of routine to feed through each cable and seal it into place. Choltz then simply plugged the other end into the appropriate socket, establishing a hard-wired link back to the Flame. That was all that Enteberol had expected to be doing on this particular mission. Nobody had ever mentioned that he might personally be chosen to go inside the derelict. Until now. Evidently Choltz was harboring similar doubts and concerns, because she nervously enquired, “Um… your pardon, Sub-Commander. I’m not entirely sure how drilling holes into the derelicts hull… Um… Qualifies us for the exploratory team. Wouldn’t one of the Ghost Patrol’s be more suited to the task, Sir?” Talamane regarded Choltz carefully, perhaps considering how to phrase her response, then blinked confirmation. “Don’t worry, Tec-Op Choltz, there will indeed be a sizable force of commandoes in the party, but we don’t want this to appear a purely military operation. There are… political considerations, but you need not concern yourself overmuch about that. Who knows when your skills may be required inside that craft? We certainly don’t want the troops to resort to blowing holes in the vessel, do we?” “As you say, Sub-Commander.” Choltz replied, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but deferring to authority. Enteberol, who had reason to know a little more about the derelict by now, ventured a question of his own. “Sub-Commander, Sir… if I may ask?’ She blinked permission. ‘Will any of the enclave representatives be on the exploratory team? Or is there some element of risk involved here, which prevents them from accompanying us… Sir?” Smiling, obviously intending to reassure by not revealing her teeth, (Enteberol still found the woman intimidating, regardless!) the Sub-Commander replied. “We are dealing with the unknown here, Technician. Of course there is the possibility of danger. That is why the troops will be there! The enclave’s will be with you in spirit, though. Some crew will be issued with Visi-com units, so that your progress may be monitored from the Flame.” “Of course, Sir, but… forgive my foolishness - I have not been trained for this kind of operation - is there any expectation that we will, um… meet resistance?” Enteberol regretted the question as soon as he had asked it. “Resistance!’ Talamane slapped her thigh as she barked an involuntary laugh. ‘Ha! Crewman, do not let rumors and legends lead you into flights of fancy! That derelict has been out here for hundreds, perhaps thousands of generations! No, this is more an archeological expedition than anything else - still your jitters, man!” He couldn’t prevent the next question blurting out, before thinking - again! “Then why does it still have a breathable atmosphere, Sub-Commander?” Her eyes narrowed briefly, then, with a snort of belated realisation, she replied. “Of course - you’ve seen the feeds, haven’t you? In fact, Mech-Tec Enteberol, it was your own diligence and dedication that brought you to the Clade Commander’s notice. It is why the two of you were selected for this honour, over the other crewmembers who worked alongside you! Actually… given your interest, I would have expected more enthusiasm from you.” Keenly aware of Choltz’ sudden glare - if she had the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes, he would now be crispy fried Tec - Enteberol felt his heart sink. Whilst he would admit to some - small - curiosity being behind his volunteering to check the link integrity personally; his main reasoning had been more practical. He hadn’t wanted himself and Choltz to be sent back to re-do their work, just because somebody else messed up further down the line. Perhaps misread the data and blamed it on them, for example. He hadn’t wanted to go anywhere near that ship again! So, he had traced and verified the information flow through every connection and relay. He had overseen the systems integration in the Command Hub itself. He had even assisted Tec-Op Imanol in installing the necessary circuits and modifications, in that remarkable Visi-Sphere device that he was so proud of. This was where, as he observed the test runs on data compatibility, Enteberol had learned about the atmosphere inside the derelict. He had been extremely satisfied with the perfect functioning of the link, and confident that nobody would be able to find reason to send him back to this so-called ‘Ship of the Ancients’. He had actually been looking forward to a couple of shifts well-earned R’n’R! Instead, he and his work partner had been summoned to a personal briefing: by no less a personage than the Second Spear of the Indigo Flame herself! Now, having been dismissed from Talamane’s office with orders to report directly to Mission Prep, Enteberol let the furious Choltz storm off ahead of him while he tried to figure out what had happened. How did it all go so horribly wrong? After he opened his eyes, Aleph Null instinctively located the nipple inside his suit helmet. Taking a deep draught of liquid nutrients, he slowly began to evaluate the situation. Exactly as he had been briefed to expect, Null felt no disorientation at all from his immersion in the isolation chamber - it truly was as if he had only just hooked himself up! However, something was definitely wrong. If the process had worked, he should have been revived only at Wars End, or in the unlikely event of an intrusion. However, outside his chamber there awaited no greeting party. More disturbingly, the corridor still appeared to be in stand-by lighting mode. Accessing the primary linkages, he reviewed the ship’s status. Null’s head-up display scrolled through the information rapidly. All atmospheric conditions were just as he had left them! The whole rationale for his entering isolation fully suited was that - in the event of his being woken before victory - the ship would be as cold as space itself; devoid of the atmosphere that should have dissipated over the centuries. There certainly shouldn’t be any lighting - however low. He was beginning to get deeply worried. Had this whole glorious experiment been an abject failure? Had he really been brought out of temporal isolation so soon that a mere few hours had passed - rather than the anticipated millennia? Had the damned chamber even worked at all? Fighting back any trace of panic, Null called up the resurrection protocols. There was no discernable discrepancy; the biological pattern that had initiated revivification was well within predicted genetic drift variables - the DNA trace was actually a closer match than had been allowed for! But there was nobody here. Null deliberately relaxed himself, then began to methodically disconnect his links to the chamber one by one. He placed each carefully in the appropriate holding slot in the chamber’s ceiling, then keyed the overhead pad to release his hibernation couch. It slid out smoothly, until Null was able to raise himself into a seated position. It truly felt as if no time had passed at all. Swinging his legs off the couch, he stood effortlessly, simultaneously keying the chamber closure instructions into his wrist pad. He didn’t wait to see the couch slide back into the chamber, and only heard the hatch slide back up and seal itself once more. His attention was now solely focused on the Vault of Memories, or at least, the massive and imposing doors that formed the end of this access-way. They appeared to be undamaged, untouched even. With a sigh of relief Null turned around to study the rest of the small corridor with more care, confirming to his satisfaction that nothing seemed to be amiss. Slowly, still not quite believing that everything could have gone so terribly wrong, he released the seal on his faceplate. He took a cautious sniff… A little musty, a little thin, but perfectly breathable. It looked like his only option was to make a thorough examination of the entire ship. He particularly wanted to check on the status of his five crewmates; whose survival-pod’s isolation protocols should have automatically engaged, when he activated the signal from his own chamber. To do that, he needed to get back to the flight deck. Resealing his faceplate as a precaution, Null stepped a little way down the corridor until he stood beneath a ceiling hatch. Punching the opening sequence into the keypad, set flush beside it, caused the hatch to slide away to one side - allowing Null to grip the lower hand-rung that descended to within his reach. He gave no thought to the physical effort required to haul himself up by his hands alone. His mind was already far too occupied with the task ahead. Just what was going on here? For once, Clade Commander Silandor was seated in the central throne that he so despised. This was purely so that he could engage the podium’s privacy field: enabling him to discuss matters that he may not wish his entire hub crew to be party to just yet, but still remain visible and accessible to them. Before him stood Specialist Third Palasar, considerably more self-assured than when he had first singled her out. “The delay in transmission I requested?” He enquired, not considering it necessary to elaborate further. “Fully implemented, Commander. We now have a 0.5 decad window to prevent the enclaves from receiving any information that you may deem… unsettling to them.’ She hesitated briefly, then added. ‘The assistance of Mech-Tec Enteberol was most helpful, although he did express some concerns…” “Such as?” “Well, he seemed to be under the impression that any delays in the feed might reflect badly on himself.’ Palasar hurried to add, ‘However, once I told him that the instructions came directly from yourself, Sir, he did an admirable job.” “Indeed, so it would appear.’ Silandor nodded thoughtfully, ‘I have taken steps to see that his abilities are recognized. It would be unfortunate if any word of these… precautions were to reach any of our guests, particularly the Archivist First. That man would simply refuse to accept that these measures are intended for his own benefit - he prefers to read subterfuge and conspiracy into my every action. I tell you, Palasar, all civilians are cursed with over-active imaginations.” Palasar was unsure how to respond to this - or even if a response was required - so she simply agreed with her Commander. “Yes, Sir. Do you require anything further, Sir?” She did not expect his reply. “A friendly face.” The Commander mused. Palasar blinked several times, more rapidly than was seemly, but her confusion momentarily overcame her discipline. Taking control of her tongue, which had been tasting the air without her conscious volition, she managed. “I’m not quite sure I follow, Commander.” She was deeply aware that no-one else could hear this conversation. Silandor suddenly seemed to realize the possible implications of his unguarded statement. He regarded the young woman very seriously, with perhaps just a trace of regret. “I do apologize, Specialist, I was thinking aloud. I assure you that I intended no impropriety. Allow me to clarify.’ Leaning back into his command throne, he motioned around the Hub, taking in the busy crew with a casual sweep of his arm. ‘You and I, Specialist, we look around here and we see our home. When I review my troops, I see efficient cadres of men and women that I have known for years. I see my brothers and sisters.’ He paused, scratching pensively at his cheek with an unsheathed claw. ‘I fear that, when our guests look around at all this, they see frightening people that they distrust and dislike. I want them to see a friendly face on the exploratory team. Although the Ghost First will be in charge of team security, I want to put you in overall command of this preliminary investigation. You are more familiar with the derelict’s telemetry than anyone else aboard, and I believe that your presence may reassure the civilian enclave’s as to our good intentions. What say you, Specialist?” Palasar didn’t believe for a moment that she was being given any choice in the matter, but her pulse quickened anyway. The opportunity walk in legend - if this truly was a Ship of the Ancients - was enough to override any fear or trepidation she may otherwise have felt, at being given such responsibility. Palasar stood proudly to attention and barked. “My life in your hands, Commander!” Jamie was quite enjoying the way each section of corridor lit up ahead of him every time he passed a sensor, and he was keen to see what was at the end. However, he did try not to get too far ahead of Zoe and the Doctor. They had not had the good fortune to be born and raised in the rugged Highlands of Scotland, so it was understandable that they might not feel quite as confident on this gentle slope as he did. He had lost interest in the corridor itself. Apart from its gargantuan size it was much like any other he had encountered - and travelling with the Doctor seemed to make encountering corridors inevitable! “Oh do slow down, Jamie!’ came an indignant cry from Zoe, ‘this isn’t a race, you know!” When he stopped and looked back to his companions, Jamie couldn’t help grinning as he saw them gripping onto each other for balance. He had been about to stop and wait for his friends anyway, having seen something that they were too pre-occupied to notice yet. The slope had levelled off, and this straighter section was the end of the corridor. As the Doctor arrived, puffing and panting, Jamie asked him, “Well, Doctor, d’ye have any ideas how we go about opening yon door then?” Much relieved to be on level footing, both Zoe and the Doctor raised their eyes from their feet and gawped. Of course, they had all known that any doors would have to be on a scale with everything else they had seen - but to actually be confronted by such a portal was still a shock! The Doctor peered up at the door itself, which was fairly plain and uninteresting, then scrutinized the surrounding frame more carefully. “I should think it will be fairly easy to open actually, Jamie! If you study the frame you will notice that any form of opening mechanism is conspicuous by its absence.’ He then gazed back up the corridor, absently tugging an earlobe. ‘Yes, look back there, both of you. You can see where the lights have been, er… ‘Switched off’ behind us, but we can still see the faint glow from the control room. I should imagine that the bridge is considered a secure area, and as such is usually kept locked. However, it would be most inconvenient if every door on the ship required a special key, don’t you think?” “Of course!’ Zoe enthused, ‘the doors probably operate on the same principal as the lighting!’ She marched forward confidently to trigger the next sensor herself. As she had anticipated the massive door began to open. ‘You see!’ Zoe smiled triumphantly as she turned back to her friends, ‘it’s just a straight-forward automatic door!” Her self-satisfied grin slowly fell from her face, as she took in her friend’s expressions. Zoe turned back to the opening door and looked up… And up… And up. ”Eep!” she squeaked, in a tiny, tiny voice. Category:Forgotten Suns